Like Water Lost In The Sea
by danniisupernova
Summary: Zack and Angela go on a short sabbatical. It's an anniversary thing, but not theirs. AU from Aliens in A Spaceship wherein Hodgins slipped into shock and died before Dr. Brennan escaped.
1. Chapter 1

Angela wishes everyone would stop asking

Angela wishes everyone would stop asking. It seems like it has to be slipped into every conversation she has at work now. iAre you alright?/i

She knows they're just trying to be nice. That they care about her and are doing their best to support her. Except for Brennen of course. Brennen just keeps steam-rolling ahead, never thinking for a moment that something could possibly be wrong. It's not that she's a bad friend; Angela understands that. It's just that Brennen has never been too keyed into what's actually going on around her, working herself harder and harder.

They've drifted apart over the last year (ieleven months/i, she amends, inot a year yet/i). Brennen is hardly ever in the lab anymore, leaving the bulk of the work to Zack. And as if this isn't a sign something is wrong, she and Booth have been fighting more often then not. Not the usual light bickering between the two of them, but real knock-down-drag-outs, as Angela's father would say.

Zack comes into her office everyday, work or no, to ask if she is all right. It irritates her to no end. Sometimes she just wants to scream iNo! No! I'm not all right! Now will you stop asking?/i But then Zack will look at her with his big, permanent King of the Lab eyes, cut to the bone and, knowing that, she can't help but say that, yes, she is all right and would he like to eat lunch with her today? And how are things with Naomi from Palentology? Oh really? You don't know what a pearl necklace is?

She hears herself being the old Angela, the Angela from before Jack disappeared into the ground and hates herself a little. How can she be anything like this when Hodgins is dead, rotting and slowly but surely turning into Brennen's beloved bones?

Some days, when she and Zack are eating in silence, which happens every now and again, when she can't muster up the effort to be raunchy, sassy Angela, thoughts will flit across the surface of her mind, like asking Zack how decomposed Hodgins would be by now. Would he be a skeleton or more like a mummy? Would those giant holes in his legs still be there? Did it hurt to die when you slipped into shock? Did Hodgins ever tell Zack how he felt about her? Like, exactly?

But she knows these things might scare Zack a little and she doesn't want Zack to be any more scared for her then he already is.

It's a Monday morning. She wakes up with her alarm as would be expected. She feels a bit off kilter, as she has for…oh, ages it feels like now. She packs up her laptop, showers briefly, gets dressed, planning to put her make-up on in her office.

When she gets to the Jeffersonian, Brennen and Booth aren't there. They're bringing in a new case, something with a woman. And bees. This last thought pushes all others out of her mind. iBees/i she thinks irritably. iWhy bees? Why couldn't it have been…sharks or wildcats or even a dinosaur or something?/i

Angela looks at her calendar. A pit blossoms in her stomach like she's some rotted peach. It's been 357 days since she last saw Jack. Eight days until it's a year. She doesn't understand why she hasn't thrown this calendar out. Why the hell does she iever/i need to know what day it is? It's not like her jobs really carry deadlines.

"Angela, I need you to please give me a face for this skull, I've just finished putting the tissue-" Zack barges in, charging forward with a skull covered in red pins held out in front of him. She turns to look at him, a slightly shocked look on her face and one rebel tear sliding down her cheek. She knows Zack is horrible at this sort of thing. In point of fact, he's just standing there, holding the skull, his mouth hanging open and an alarmed look on his face. She takes three long strides towards him, throws her arms around his neck, hiding her head in the crook of his shoulder.

He doesn't drop the skull; instead he sets it down on a small table that displayed on of Angela's original sculptures, a smooth, curvy clay thing. He wraps one arm around her back and places his other hand on her head. The latex glove he's wearing feels strange on her hair.

"Angela?" Zack asks in a perplexed tone. "Are you all right?"

Angela shakes her head. "No. No. I'm not all right. Not even close."

"A sabbatical?" Cam raises her eyebrows. Her hands are folded neatly on her steel desk. Angela nods, brushing her hand through her hair, an old nervous habit from critiquing in high school. "Yes, Cam. I need one. Badly." Cam nods as well. "For how long?"

Angela winces. "Two weeks. I think. Maybe a month."

Cam raises her eyebrow, clearly not amused. "Maybe a month?"

"Maybe. But definitely two weeks." Cam nods again, obviously a bit confused. "It's just…" Angela doesn't want to say what she's about to say, but apparently what she wants doesn't matter. "It's been almost a year. And I don't think I can stand to be here when it…when the…I got the news here, Cam. Can't you understand that, even a little bit?" Angela holds back tears. If there is one thing Angela Montenegro does not do, it's cry in front of the boss.

"I do understand Angela." Cam says directly. "Go on sabbatical. If, at the end of two weeks, you don't wish to return to the Jeffersonian for another two, I just want a phone call saying so. That's all." She stands to leave. "And Angela?"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you ask for this earlier?"

"I didn't know how much I needed it until now."

As she's packing her bag, an idea comes to Angela. An awful idea. A wonderful, awful idea.

iAnd with my sour Grinch-y grin…/i she thinks and smiles.

She picks up her cell phone, jetting to the bottom of her contacts by hitting the up arrow. Before she thinks about it, she presses 'send'. Zack answers "Yes" very sleepily and she imagines him in the position she left him in: head down, conked out in front of his computer, drooling onto the stainless steel table.

"Zack, it's Angela."

"Yes, I know. You're the only person who ever calls me anymore aside from my mom." She suppresses a small smile at this. "I want you to come with me tomorrow. When I leave. I'll even help pay for the ticket and you can share a room with me."

"You want me to share a room with you?"

She blushes a little, rolling her eyes. "On the couch, stooge."

"But Dr. Brennen is almost never in the lab anymore, I have all her back work and my dissertation-"

"Zack. Forget all of that. It's two weeks. Maybe a little longer. No one will die without their grad student, the lady who replaced…who Cam hired is there, I've already helped them find a stand in for me from the Bethesda PD…just come. Besides," she soldiers on slyly, "I thought your dissertation was almost done."

"Exactly. Almost. As in, not finished. I need to finish it Angela."

"So pack your laptop Z-Man. It's time you left the nest a while."

She hangs up, not wanting to hear any more excuses. She doesn't question why she wants Zack to come with her. That's just not something she does.

The flight to SFO isn't crowded. After all, it's a Wednesday afternoon. Angela plays around in Photoshop on her laptop, her little white earbuds in, listening to Sufjan Stevens. Zack sits next to her, typing furiously. Occasionally, he'll stop typing and look at her briefly. She looks back and smiles. She likes being quiet with Zack. It's so…unstressful. Like there's no expectation, just sitting, doing, but not alone. She wonders if Zack feels obligated to say anything when it gets quiet like this. She considers asking him for a moment, there, in the air above St. Louis. But she doesn't, returning to her laptop and sighing contentedly.

The farther she gets from the Jeffersonian, the better she feels. It's just easier not to think about how torn up she is about Jack, being in all these places she's never seen him in and, as far as she knew, he had never been to.

Since it's her sabbatical and she had been given a raise only two months before, Angela chose the Hotel Triton to stay in. It's expensive and environmentally friendly and ivery/i pretentious and artsy. She loves and hates it immediately. Some of the décor is just too much, straining to be artistic and design-y. And the look on Zack's face suggests that he would much rather be sleeping on an autopsy table then in a stiflingly arty hotel.

She checks them in while Zack juggles both of her bags and two of his own. She hadn't wanted him to carry her things, but he refused to let the bellhop carry anything and when she asks why, later in their room, he tells her his mother taught him that all bellhops were dishonest and to never let them near his luggage, especially if there was a lady with him. Angela marvels at this story, wondering why his mother would feel so violently about bellhops. Maybe a bellhop broke her heart? Or maybe one of her bags was stolen by a bellhop right under her nose? She wonders if even Zack knows the answer to this. It makes her a little more curious about him and while she slides the keycard through the magnetic runner, she starts to wonder about Zack.

Half of the reason she had picked the Triton was that it was right across Grant Street from the Chinese Gate. San Francisco's Chinatown, to Angela's mind, is the best in the world. Walking through the fierce wind, wrapped in her coat, she takes in the smell of the ocean. Zack has come with her and looks curiously at a window full of roasted, hanging ducks.

"I've never been here before," he says off handedly. "It's nice."

She turns toward him and smiles a little. "Well then I guess that it's worth the trip."

He smiles back at her, that tiny curve in the corner of his mouth, that's almost never really a smile and hasn't been at all since Jack died. In a week, it'll have been a year.

Angela links her arm through his. "Let's get some Chinese food. And some of those cheap silk slippers."

They walk off down the brightly lit street and Angela briefly resists the urge to lean her head on his shoulder.

Zack is asleep in the other double bed, the one against the wall, not by the window. Angela always gets the bed by the window.

She can't sleep. All she can think of is Jack, moldering beneath the surface of the Earth and this horrible song comes to mind, one she learned in grade school from her best friend.

ithe worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinochle on your snout, they eat your eyes, they eat your nose, they eat the jelly between your toes/i

Angela sits up abruptly. Her hand flies to her mouth and her stomach churns. She doesn't want a rerun of her beef chow fun, but she can't stop imagining those iworms/i. Fucking worms, that Jack loved so much.

"Are you all right?"

She turns to look at Zack and her heart breaks a little. He has the covers pulled up to his chin and tucked under it peering at her like some big concerned kid. iWhich is exactly what he is/i Angela thinks.

"Zack-"

iyour stomach turns a slimy green/i

"-from now on, don't ask if I'm-"

iand pus pours out like whipping cream/i

"-all right. Ask what's wrong. Because you should just assume-"

iyou spread it on a slice of bread/i

"-that I am inot/i alright!"

i and that's what you eat when you are dead!/i

Angela feels awful for yelling at him. She hates it when she's upset and all she can do is just share the wealth. Zack just keeps looking at her so earnestly and suddenly she's furious. Why did she even bring him on this trip? Why did he even come? What was the point? She just feels like spitting poison at him and berating him for no reason at all except for that he's here. Instead she lies back down and turns her back to him. She waits to hear his breathing even out, to be sure that he's asleep. But it doesn't come and she drifts off.

When she wakes up to the sunshine coming through the window, Angela realizes it must be almost noon. The fog in San Francisco was usually all the blackout curtain she needed. Zack is awake, sitting and madly jabbing at his laptop again.

"Hey."

He starts. "Angela. Good morning. Or good afternoon as the case is."

She stretches and looks out. The day is beautiful. "Do you want to go get some lunch?"

Zack nods. "Yes. Very much. What's wrong?"

Angela shakes her head in confusion. "What?"

"What's wrong? You asked me last night to stop asking if you were all right and to start asking what was wrong. So I'm asking."

Angela rolls her eyes. "Nothing is wrong Zack."

"Good. And what might we be eating for lunch?"

She grins at him a little. He's being a smartass, which is new for him. "Well, what haven't you eaten but want to try?"

Zack thinks this over for a moment. "Vietnamese food. I've never had that. Can we have that?"

"All things in life should be so easy."

They leave the arty hotel and catch the bus on Grant Street to the Presidio. They ride along in silence again, but Angela doesn't feel like it's the same silence that they sat in on the plane. She tries to think of something to say

iworms/i

but all she can think of is that awful song again.

"I like it here." Zack says as he stares out the buses window. Angela wants to ask him why, as they're riding down Market Street in the Tenderloin, where every ghetto head shop in the world is standing in plain sight with numerous crazies spewing their sermons all over the sidewalk.

But she figures, that's just Zack.

She thinks it's entirely unfair that he should be looking at her the way he is. It occurs to her that he could have been looking at her like this all along and she's just been to oblivious of him to notice. And that would make her more like Brennen than she's ever imagined.

They're standing outside the Pho resturant on Clement Street when she reaches for his hand. This is probably pretty dumb she tells herself, but it can't possibly be stupider then when she went on a date with Hodgins. iAt least he could say that we kissed before he died. If he said anything at all./i This thought doesn't make much sense and it makes her feel even worse for thinking about Hodgins when she's here with Zack. Especially since she's holding his hand, like some tenth grade girl with her first boyfriend. That's when she realizes that this could definitely be a huge mistake.

She drops his hand and the smile starting to bloom on his face, above the blue and yellow of his University of Michigan hoodie fades just as quickly as it began.

Neither of them is sleeping. Angela can tell. Zack is laying on his back, in his dorky collared pajamas, hands on either side of him on top of the blankets, staring straight up at the ceiling.

Angela is in almost the same position, except on of her arms is flung over her head, her hand barely touching her forehead. Neither of them says anything though she keeps getting the feeling that Zack is going to. They'd walked around Golden Gate Park for a few hours, not really speaking. She had wanted to tell Zack about how the trees in the Park that didn't grow anywhere else in the world. But suddenly it was like this brick wall had been put up between them.

Angela lies still, waiting for him to say something. Or for her to say something for that matter.

But it's still quiet with only the empty sounds of them breathing and staring at the ceiling.

The day is one of the most awkward ones she's had since high school. They don't really speak, their silence feels almost hostile and still they do everything together.

Angela can't remember being more unhappy.

They've eaten in silence for two days. They are hiking through the hills in North Beach. The sky is overcast and it's cold. They walk and walk, with nothing but the sound of their breathing passing between them.

Finally, Angela says something. "I'm sorry, Zack."

"This is the part where you say 'but' right?" Zack looks at her just as calmly as he would at the gunshot in a parietal bone.

"No. I'm sorry for…I mean, you know why I did it right?"

"No. I don't."

Zack's face stays neutral. But she can hear that he's angry.

"Because…all I can think…Hodgins…" Angela can't look him in the eye.

"Hodgins is dead, Angela. Rationally speaking, he's not an obstacle for you."

Angela looks at him, shocked. "So you don't miss him? At all?"

Zack nods. "I do. But that doesn't mean I believe he's still here. If you hold my hand or if I kiss you, Hodgins isn't going to get revenge on us or hate us or care at all. Because he's dead. All that's left of his body is adipocere and soft tissue. Probably less then that because of those cuts Dr. Brennen made on his legs in the car."

Angela doesn't know what to say. Her mother had been very spiritual before she died and had told Angela all about the afterlife: how gorgeous it was, how many amazing people were there, the endless love and sweetness. She hadn't realized how much stock she'd put into her mother's schlocky visions until now.

"Fine then," she says angrily, tears welling in her eyes. She hates it when she's this angry, so angry that it seems like all she can do is just cry out of sheer fury and frustration.

She grabs his wrist turns him towards her and kisses him roughly. Then she pushes him away and starts to walk back down the hill towards the square with the cathedral. "Is that better?"

She doesn't want to go back to the hotel so she gets on a bus. She doesn't really know where she'll end up, but she hopes it will be the Castro. It's getting late in the day and she wouldn't mind an evening spent dancing with hot, scantily clad gay men.

Instead she winds up in the Avenues. She gets on another bus that whisks her back towards the water and the Golden Gate. Angela speeds past the Presidio towards Land's End (iyou know/i her inner Brennan chimes iWhere the land ends./i)

It's almost sunset when she reaches the Palace of Fine Arts. She sees families and couples and random teenagers barreling towards the Exploratorium. A little girl with dark hair and pigtails clings to her father's hand, demanding that he explain the barebacked women perched on top of the columns. This makes Angela smile.

She pays the fourteen dollars to get in. Mostly she zones, looking into the perspective room and watching the little kids throw bubbles with giant metal rings in what looks like a huge metal dip dish. One little girl seems hell bent on putting her soapy fingers through her bubble without it popping. A small blonde boy with an Australian accent jostles behind her, asking if he can use her ring to encase his little brother.

Angela gets up and walks away before the ensuing riot has a chance to begin. She looks down as she walks. There are oval signs on the floor that read different things like "I am interested in lots of things" and "I think logically".

Suddenly she realizes that she's completely alone. No Jack, no Brennan, no Zack. 'Just Ange' as her father would say on his rare but precious visits. She understands, in this moment, exactly how Zack feels. Or how he'd felt anyway.

She walks outside and leans against one of the columns and looks out onto the lake. She takes her cell phone out of her pocket, once again hitting up to get to the bottom of her contacts. She's never thought about why she's done this before now, when she realizes that she doesn't want to have to scroll past Jack's old number. iI still feel guilty…/i

This makes her feel even guiltier because she can't stop feeling guilty for Zack, who, to her mind, richly deserves it.

She hits 'send'.

After the first tone, he answers. "Where are you?"

"Where are iyou/i?" Angela shoots back.

"In the hotel room. You've been gone a long time. What's wrong?"

Angela almost laughs at this. She can't believe that she didn't notice before now how much of what she says he takes to heart.

A funny memory comes back to her

i"Do the names Michael Jackson or Joanne Rivers mean anything to you?"

"One of them. The other I'll look up."/i

She fights the urge to laugh.

"And when I ask 'what's wrong' what I really mean is 'what's wrong besides the fight we had?'"

"This isn't the best conversation to have over the phone. I'm at the Exploratorium, by the Palace of Fine Arts. I'll be at the hotel in less then half an hour. I think." Angela looks around briefly for a bus coming. "Or maybe in more than half an hour..."

"Just tell me where you are. I'll take a cab."

Angela looks at her phone incredulously.

"Zack that's going to be ridiculously expensive. Don't take a cab down here to pick me up."

"What? Angela, I can't hear you. The signal near where you are is being disrupted. I'll see you when I get there."

"Wait, Zack." There's an audible click. "Dammit!"

She leans back against the huge, sky-kissing pillar. The wind blows off of the Bay and through her hair. She grabs the lapels of her long coat and wraps them tighter around herself, waiting.


	2. Chapter 2

She doesn't want to go back to the hotel so she gets on a bus

She doesn't want to go back to the hotel so she gets on a bus. She doesn't really know where she'll end up, but she hopes it will be the Castro. It's getting late in the day and she wouldn't mind an evening spent dancing with hot, scantily clad gay men.

Instead she winds up in the Avenues. She gets on another bus that whisks her back towards the water and the Golden Gate. Angela speeds past the Presidio towards Land's End (iyou know/i her inner Brennan chimes iWhere the land ends./i)

It's almost sunset when she reaches the Palace of Fine Arts. She sees families and couples and random teenagers barreling towards the Exploratorium. A little girl with dark hair and pigtails clings to her father's hand, demanding that he explain the barebacked women perched on top of the columns. This makes Angela smile.

She pays the fourteen dollars to get in. Mostly she zones, looking into the perspective room and watching the little kids blow bubbles with giant metal rings in what looks like a huge metal dip dish. One little girl seems hell bent on putting her soapy fingers through her bubble without it popping. A small blonde boy with an Australian accent jostles behind her, asking if he can use her ring to encase his little brother in what looks like a huge bubble sleeping bag.

Angela gets up and walks away before the ensuing struggle has a chance to begin. She looks down as she walks. There are oval signs on the floor that read different things like "I am interested in lots of things" and "I think logically".

Suddenly she realizes that she's completely alone. No Jack, no Brennan, no Zack. 'Just Ange' as her father would say on his rare but precious visits. She understands, in this moment, exactly how Zack feels. Or how he'd felt anyway.

She walks outside and leans against one of the columns and looks out onto the duck pond. She takes her cell phone out of her pocket, once again hitting up to get to the bottom of her contacts. She's never thought about why she's done this before now, when she realizes that she doesn't want to have to scroll past Jack's old number. iI still feel guilty…/i

This makes her feel even guiltier because she can't stop feeling guilty for Zack, who, to her mind, richly deserves it.

She hits 'send'.

After the first tone, he answers. "Where are you?"

"Where are iyou/i?" Angela shoots back.

"In the hotel room. You've been gone a long time. What's wrong?"

Angela almost laughs at this. She can't believe that she didn't notice before now how much of what she says he takes to heart.

A funny memory comes back to her

i"Do the names Michael Jackson or Joanne Rivers mean anything to you?"

"One of them. The other I'll look up."/i

She fights the urge to laugh.

"And when I ask 'what's wrong' what I really mean is 'what's wrong besides the fight we had?'"

"This isn't the best conversation to have over the phone. I'm at the Exploratorium, by the Palace of Fine Arts. I'll be at the hotel in less then half an hour. I think." Angela looks around briefly for a bus coming. "Or maybe in more than half an hour..."

"I'll take a cab."

Angela looks at her phone incredulously.

"Zack that's going to be ridiculously expensive. Don't take a cab down here to pick me up."

"What? Angela, I can't hear you. The signal near where you are is being disrupted. I'll see you when I get there."

"Wait, Zack." There's an audible click. "Dammit!"

She leans back against the huge, sky-kissing pillar. The wind blows off of the Bay and through her hair. She grabs the lapels of her long coat and wraps them tighter around herself, waiting.

Zack shows up almost an hour later. It's dark and the cab rolls around into the almost empty parking lot.

She was worried this would happen. Not that he would be late, she expected that, but that she would be alone long enough to really think, no distractions, no nothing. Across the pond, house lights shimmer, making her think of home.

She's been thinking about her and Zack for the past half hour or so. Well, actually, she'd been thinking about her and Zack for the last ihour/i. And for the last half-hour she'd been thinking about her, Zack and Hodgins.

iIt's like that awful threesome episode of Sex and the City/i she thinks as she watches the cab roll towards her. iEven if it's just me and Zack, it's like Hodgins is still there./i That's when she realizes she's actually thinking of sleeping with Zack. And more then that, she's thinking that maybe this would be the right place to run off to with someone. Or rather with Brennan's geeky grad student. Even worse then that, with Jack's best friend.

iFormer best friend. How can you have a best friend when you're dead?/i

A voice a lot like Brennan's chimes in iHow can you have a girlfriend at that?/i

Zack hops out of the cab, still in his University of Michigan hoodie. It's so baggy it practically swallows him. Angela turns towards him and before she knows what she's doing, she breaks into a run. He stands there, waiting for her.

She stops just in front of him. "Is this the part where we kiss? Because my sisters told me that if a girl ever ran up to me like that, she was either going to kiss me or slap me and I'm hoping it's the former because if you wanted to slap me-"

She kisses him, if only to get him to shut up.

As the fair quickly climbs towards thirty dollars, Zack reaches across the black leather backseat to take her hand.

And the funny thing is, she lets him.

"What did you do while you were gone?"

Zack is lying next to her in his little double bed. Both of them are wearing their clothes except for their shoes. Angela managed to shed her coat as well, but both of them were too tired to eat or do much of anything. As he says this, Zack stifles a yawn.

"I was at the Exploratorium."

"What's that? Can we go there tomorrow?"

"It's like the Jeffersonian for little kids. There's exhibits about biology and physics and….and…" Angela yawns. "Bubbles."

"Bubbles? There are no bubbles at the Jeffersonian. And Booth told me that Archie Bunker's chair is at the Jeffersonian."

Angela wrinkles her nose at this. "That old guy from iThe Honeymooners/i who beat his wife? How is that an improvement?"

"I don't…."

Zack shuts his eyes. Angela is loath to trying to keep him up. She's cold and a little hungry and very tired. She looks at the clock. It's only 6:57. But she cuddles near him. iOnly because it's cold and we're laying on top of the blankets…/i As she wiggles closer, Zack sleepily puts his arm around her. And they lay there, falling asleep, him on his back, her on her side.

Angela's eyes fly open. She's breathing hard and in a cold sweat. Her dream is still with her when she wakes up, clawing desperately at nothing.

i-coming at me they're coming with their green skin that's so slimy and cold and wet wet like water running after me going to tear me apart hungry so hungry for me-/i

Zack's hand on her cheek quiets her. She can feel the tears she must have been shedding in her sleep between her face and his palm. "Shhh, Angela, do you hear that?"

Angela quiets her breathing and listens. All she hears are the cars outside, Zack's quiet breathing mixed with her own and the faint noise of sex from a few rooms away. "No, Zack. All I hear is me and you. And some couple doing it animal style down the hall."

"Exactly. There's nothing happening. You're safe."

She looks into his face. She can barely believe it. For once in his life, Zack's said the right thing. "Where did you learn that Zack?"

"From my brother, Tim. We shared a room in Michigan before he went away to college. When I'd have nightmares, he'd wake me up. He knew me well enough to know that something that logical was the right thing to say."

They relax. They are curled into each other like a couple of dogs. They lay like that for a while when Angela says "Are you hungry?"

Zack responds immediately, "Starving."

They sit up. Angela shakes out her hair, waking herself up. "Will we be able to get anything to eat at this time of night…ah…morning?" Zack asks her.

"You've never stayed at a nice hotel before have you Zack?"

He shakes his head. "My family was too big as a child and now, all my money goes towards living expenses and the occasional DVD."

"Well then you are clearly unaware of the glory of late-night-or-early-morning-as-the- case-may-be-room-service. Hand me the phone and press one, Z-man." She dramatically thrusts her hand forward, her palm open.

He grins and sets the phone in her palm. She glances at the clock. It's three o clock. This doesn't phase her. She snatches the menu from the little lamp table and hands it to Zack. She tucks her feet under the dress of her white skirt, folding them 'Indian style'.

"Hello, Room Service."

"Hi, this is room 505. We'd like to order…uh..I suppose…an early breakfast." She sees Zack shaking his head adamantly out of the corner of her eye. He points to the grilled cheese sandwich with bacon on the menu. She smiles at him and winks.

"What would you like to order Miss?"

"Blueberry pancakes, don't skimp on anything, the whipped cream, the sugar, anything. No one in this room is on a diet." The man on the other end of the line chuckles. "Okay ma'am. Anything else?"

Angela initiates her attack plan. "See, here's the thing. My roommate was wondering if he could get a grilled cheese with bacon. I know that it's on the lunch menu and it's not quite lunchtime but I was wondering if there was any way you could rustle it up for us?"

She's all charm and sweet understanding. The room service guy doesn't stand a chance. "Oh, that shouldn't be too difficult. It's not like he'd like the grilled sea bass or something."

"Thanks. So we'll see you in about an hour?"

"Oh no! More like forty-five minutes."

"Gre-at." Angela hangs up the phone and looks at the clock again. 3:14.

iPi/i she thinks randomly. And then it rushes back to her. Today is the day.

The day.

One year later.

It's like a bad ending to a movie. All of a sudden, it's a year later and they don't tell you anything, you just have to pick up where all the characters are immediately, no chance to recover from what had just happened.

A year ago today, Hodgins was still alive. Until he wasn't.

Suddenly everything seems unbearably heavy to her, even the air she was breathing. "Zack," she whispers.

"Yes?" He follows her sightline to the clock. "Pi."

He almost smiles. "Today…the date…Zack," she's never felt this inarticulate in her whole life. She thought she would be over it by now. But it just felt like a dull ache instead of the razor sharp shred of 364 days before.

"It's November 16-" He stops and can only look at her. It seems that all of his pontification about rational thought is gone. One year ago today was the last day he'd had with his best friend. "I-" he starts, at a loss for words.

Angela, sitting next to him on the bed, puts her hand to the side of his head, scratching lightly with her fingertips at his scalp. He leans forward and puts his head on her shoulder. She leans her cheek against his head. They stay like that for a while before the Room Service guy knocks on the door.

Angela never mentions it to anyone.

After they eat, they curl up again and go back to sleep.

Angela feels warm and very heavy after eating all those pancakes. Zack's breath smells a little funny to her as she drifts off.

iJust be glad to be here…/i she thinks hazily.

She dreams that she's digging.

It seems like she's been at it for hours in this quarry. The light turns off, just as she reaches the top of Brennan's SUV.

She kicks in the moon roof, breathing in the gust of stale, metallic air.

i the metal smell is blood/i

There's nothing inside. A pile of white dust sits in a bloodstain on the back seat. A pair of feet sits on the floor in front of it.

She exhales and the white dust disappears. iOne year later…/i the dust seems to whisper.

Brennan sits in the driver's seat. "The truth is in the bones, Ange. They can't lie."

And then she's gone too.

And all that's left is Angela. And the feet.

Angela wakes up to Zack's hand on her breast. She looks at him. He's still asleep. She twists slightly to get up.

She goes to the bathroom. She pees and washes her hands. She walks out. It's still the day. She's grateful for the time change. She can't tell what time it is back home without thinking about it, which she is all to happy to avoid doing.

She sits on her bed and lets Zack sleep. It's almost eleven and they hadn't gotten back to sleep until about 5 after the food.

She knows she's waiting for something. She stresses it to herself over and over.

iToday was the last time you saw Jack. You'll never see him again. This is only the first of many./i

She feels like something important should happen, that the world should stop for this. But it doesn't, the same way it didn't stop turning on the actual day. One year ago.

Angela stands up and walks over to Zack in his bed. She sits on the edge of the bed and runs her index finger down the bridge of his nose, starting between his eyebrows. She does this a few times and he frowns in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open.

"Angela? Why aren't you naked? When I have this dream you're usually naked."

Angela looks at him, one eyebrow raised. She's amazed that she's caught him at a moment in which he would admit to something like that.

"Well, that could be arranged…" she says loftily. "But right now, you need to get out of bed-"

This was met with a groan,

"And come on our field trip."

"Field trip? To where?"

Angela smiles slyly at him. "The field."

It's not quite as momentous as she'd imagined but the day was still there to be seized. Angela held Zack's hand as they walked into the Exploratorium again.

She knew exactly where she was going to take him.

The piano hung, suspended off the ground with chains. From an artistic perspective it was quite postmodern Angela thought. The sign on the ground beneath it read "I am not afraid to stand under a piano." This was written over a large black, white and red bulls-eye.

Swarms of little kids passed by, like a noisy ocean. Zack and Angela stood under the piano, holding hands and looking up at it. Finally, Zack looked at her, quite perplexed. "Why are we doing this?"

"Well," said Angela. "I'm not really sure. I guess…I was afraid before. But I'm not really now."

"I see," Zack said, nodding. "So… this is some symbolic gesture that means we can have sex now?"

Angela burst out laughing. "I guess it is. Or maybe," she began mischievously, "It's like a Magritte painting and I'm just not afraid to stand under a piano."

Angela finally understood her mother's aversion to hotel duvets.

As soon as the two of them had gotten back from the Exploratorium (and the Palace of Fine Arts, which Angela had dragged Zack through), Angela had slammed the door behind them and pushed Zack down on the bed by the wall.

He didn't say anything, which had surprised Angela; she had always figured Zack for a 'bad talk during' kind of guy. And while she was stripping off his U of M hoodie (she had come to believe it was the only jacket he had packed), she kept almost getting the giggles, thinking that she was about to sleep with Brennan's grad student.

iI'm not even drunk/i she thought. iI have no excuse./i

As she takes off her shirt and Zack runs his hands up her sides, Angela wonders if this is the sanest thing she's ever done or the stupidest.

iZack is probably the smartest guy I've ever slept with./i

She pushes this thought away as it smacks of a one-night stand.

He fumbles with his fly and she can see why Naomi wasn't so quick to call back that first time. She peels off his t-shirt and kisses him. She knows this will calm him down a little and, as she straddles him, it occurs to her that she might actually love Zack after all this time and all the lunches and iare you alright?/is.

"Zack,"

"Uh..yes, Angela?"

She gives him a knowing look. "Don't worry. Everything will be alright."

Zack gives her a perplexed look for a moment and realizes what she means. His eyes light up. "You've read iWorld War Z/i too?"

She's tempted to laugh at the childish happiness on his face, that's there despite the topless woman straddling him and not because of it. "Yes. Hodgins lent it to me. He said that you loved it."

And then something a little strange happens, considering the circumstances: he sits up and hugs her.

Angela thinks it's probably the sweetest thing that's ever happened to her. Until he starts sucking at her tits. Then she doesn't think about much at all.

On the flight back to D.C. both of them sit in silence, Angela with her earbuds in and Zack, once again, typing furiously away at his computer.

Angela briefly casts her mind back to the last few days. iA year ago today, Hodgins would be dead./i The thought is bittersweet in it's finality and in it's usefulness.

She turns to Zack, who stops typing for a moment to smile at her and kiss her. Angela smiles back.

"You know," she says. "I like San Francisco a lot. The vibe of the place just feels right to me you know?"

Zack nods, looking at her. She likes that he's not suggesting it himself, that he's waiting for her to say it.

iOh bullshit, Angie, you just want to imagine he's on the same page as you./i

"I think…I could live there."

Zack nods again and turns back to his computer. "Yes," he replies. "I like it there."

She thinks that Hodgins would roll over in his grave.


End file.
